Ensign Gilmore
by JadziaKathryn
Summary: A story of hope, pain, redemption, loss, and second chances.


Disclaimer: Paramount owns _Voyager_. I don't.

**Ensign Gilmore**

_I wonder when the baby will be born, _Marla Gilmore thought to herself as she walked out of the turbolift and headed towards Engineering. _Torres looks like she's about ready to have her_. B'Elanna Torres was indeed growing increasingly impatient, but there was no certain timetable for the birth of her human-Klingon daughter. As it was, Torres had stopped striding around Engineering, as she'd done for nearly seven years, and now moved through her domain in what could best be described as a cross between a waddle and a shuffle.

The doors to Engineering slid open to reveal not only the usual people – gamma shifters, half of the alpha shift, and Torres, who practically had to be at death's door before she showed up less than twenty minutes early – but Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay as well. Marla wondered why they were in Engineering. Janeway, being a scientist in her own right, sometimes came down to discuss ideas with Torres, but Chakotay generally left Engineering to the engineers.

"Marla," he said in his deep voice, "just the person we're waiting for."

That sent her mind spinning. She couldn't be late, could she? Every morning she left the mess hall at 0752 and got to Engineering at 0757, and nothing had been different that morning. Besides, wasn't calling the Captain and First Officer a bit harsh for showing up a few minutes late? Just then she saw Herzlauer at a console, and Marla knew she wasn't late, because it took a dreadful emergency to keep him from heading straight to the mess hall at exactly 0800.

What else? Last week she'd been ten minutes late, but that was only because two-thirds of Henley's syrup-drenched waffle had flown into her lap when they hit a small particle wave. Torres hadn't been too worked up about it, since getting maple syrup over parts is asking for trouble. Marla knew she hadn't broken any regulations or derailed the warp drive, either.

"Relax, Gilmore. You're not in trouble." This from Torres, with a smile.

"Marla Gilmore," began the captain, clearly about to state the reason she was there, "since you've come aboard _Voyager_ your work has been exemplary, and you have set a model example of how a Starfleet officer should act." Mentally, Marla cringed at the thought of her actions on the _Equinox_. She still had nightmares about those poor creatures at least once a week. Captain Janeway was still talking, however, and she refocused on the captain's words. "…responsible and skilled engineer. That is why, after consulting with Lieutenant Torres, Commander Tuvok and Commander Chakotay, it is my honor to promote you to the rank of ensign, effective immediately, with all the responsibilities and privileges associated with the rank."

Marla was dazed as Janeway stepped forward and pinned a shiny gold pip on her collar. Everyone present clapped and smiled; even Herzlaur, before he headed out the door. "Congratulations, Ensign," said the captain with a wide smile.

"You've earned it," added Commander Chakotay.

Noah's long-ago words flashed in Marla's head. _You did the most for Janeway in the end. If any of us have a chance, it's you._ She'd dismissed his optimism then, relieved that at least she could work and wasn't going to spend another sixty years in the brig. She'd never dreamed of getting her rank back.

Torres ambled over and said, "I told you that you weren't in trouble."

Her head spun with shock. This had been not just a promotion, but a public proclamation of redemption. Captain Janeway, Lieutenant Torres, Commander Tuvok and Commander Chakotay all considered her worthy of promotion. She could never undo what she'd done –although if a way was possible, she would've done anything- and Marla has resigned herself to the fact that the guilt, the shame, and the nightmares would never go away. Nor should they, she supposed. The thought of all the creatures she'd killed in a selfish attempt to get home faster sickened her. Captain's orders they may have been, but she was sane and had done the work with her own hands.

And yet, in spite of that, she was once again an ensign. Her work aboard _Voyager_ had been good, and Janeway was one for giving second chances. How else could one explain Lieutenant Paris and Seven of Nine, never mind the Maquis? Still, Marla had always considered her own case more reprehensible. Lieutenant Paris had been ushered out of Starfleet for a lie; Caldik Prime itself was an accident. Seven of Nine had been controlled by the hive mind of the Borg. The Maquis had been fighting for a cause that they believed in, and at any rate they had to be integrated into the crew or _Voyager_ never would've had a chance. The few survivors from the _Equinox_ were different. Certainly they worked and pulled their weight, but they were outcasts, and rightly so. It was just punishment.

Above all, she may have done the most to help Janeway, but she had also done the most to kill those poor innocent creatures, and that outweighed anything in Marla's mind. She fingered the pip. It was cool and smooth, just like she remembered.

"Alright, people, get back to work." Torres began assigning tasks, but allowed Marla a moment to soak everything in. The captain and commander smiled on their way out, mentioning something about Harry Kim that Marla didn't catch.

"Ensign Gilmore?"

Torres' use of that title brought Marla back to Engineering. She grinned. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"The shield harmonics are out of alignment. It's within the acceptable range, but I don't like it."

"I'll get right on it."

"Thank you, _Ensign_."

Marla thought that perhaps nobody had ever been so happy when fixing shield harmonics before.

* * *

There was a collective shock when the engineers gathered after Joe Carey's funeral. Marla had always liked Lieutenant Carey. He'd always been pleasant to her, despite the richly deserved cold shoulder she got from most of the crew after the _Equinox_ was destroyed. She thought sadly of his children. Carey had just talked to his family a week ago, and he was so proud of his sons.

Torres looked lost as she faced every engineer on _Voyager_. "I'm no good at this," she began, and then paused. "Joe Carey was more than a good engineer. He was a good man. You all know how I broke his nose." A few sad chuckles rose from the group. "Carey never held it against me, though. That's the kind of person he was, and I'll miss him." She let silence reign for a moment. There was no good transition to business from grief.

"We still have a ship to run, and he certainly wouldn't want us to let _Voyager_ fall apart. So starting tomorrow, Ensign Vorik will be in charge of beta shift. Ensigns Ikaroshi and Gilmore will split command of gamma shift. That's all, people."

Marla stood, too dumbstruck to gauge the reaction of others. Torres must have made a mistake. "Lieutenant?" she said, very quietly. "I don't think…"

"You've paid your dues, Ensign. Without a second chance, I wouldn't be here today. Running this ship takes more than just technical knowledge. You've got what it takes, Gilmore, so don't tell me I made a mistake."

"Understood, Lieutenant."

But she didn't understand at all. Marla Gilmore walked to her quarters in a daze.

* * *

Marla entered Cargo Bay Two and found Seven reading a padd. "Seven, do you have a minute?"

The blonde woman looked up. "Ensign Gilmore. The Doctor informed me that you wish to speak with me."

"It was his idea."

"What do you wish to discuss?" Seven was never one for beating around the bush.

"Well, it's rather complicated."

"I am not due to resume my duties for ten point three hours, so time should not be a constraint."

"Okay." Marla took a deep breathe. She'd never considered asking Seven's opinion. "You know I've been reinstated as an ensign. Captain Janeway is giving me a second chance, I guess. But the engineer that died down there…it should've been me."

"Why do you believe that?"

"Joe Carey was a good man."

"Death comes to all individuals, Ensign. Whether one is considered good or bad by their peers, they will not live forever."

"There was no sense in it."

"In my experience, there is little 'sense' in death. However, I still do not understand why you believe you should have died instead of Lieutenant Carey."

"Lieutenant Torres has me in charge of gamma shift three nights a week now. Carey's death has sent me forward in my career. It's not right."

"I still do not understand."

"Damn it, Seven of Nine, how can you be so smart but so _dense_? All of the nucleogenic life forms! All of those innocent beings that I killed!"

"You feel guilty."

"Of course I do! I have nightmares about them. Their corpses piled up in the research lab, me using the compounds to fuel the warp drive, knowing full well that what I was using used to be alive! In my dreams, they kill everyone I've ever loved. They injure me. But they never kill me, because I wake up before they get to me. In a way, I wish that I would dream they kill me. Maybe after that I could get a decent night's sleep."

She was talking quickly now, words streaming out of her mouth that she'd never told anyone, and of all people she was confiding in Seven of Nine, but there was no stopping now. "Sometimes I see something white out of the corner of my eye, and I think it's one of them. Or I think of the other nucleogenic friends and family they had. Once in a while, I wonder what cruel twist of fate kept me alive.

"So why should I still be here, getting promoted, when Joe Carey's dead in a torpedo casing. He has sons back home. He didn't kill innocent beings. _That's_ why it should've been me, Seven. He didn't deserve to die, and I don't deserve to live this well."

Her energy spent, Marla leaned against the wall. She felt like she'd run through half the ship. Seven put her padd down and took a step closer.

"I know why the Doctor suggested you talk to me. I have dealt with similar guilt myself. Each day I must face the reality that I assimilated many individuals who did not deserve to lose their individuality."

"You weren't yourself, though."

Seven's optical implant rose as she replied, "You were following your captain's orders. Both of us have reasons to dispel the guilt, but we must carry it all the same. I have learned that guilt is one of the more unpleasant aspects of being human."

"How do you deal with it?"

Seven considered the question carefully but briefly. "Captain Janeway has given me a second chance. Whether or not I believe that I deserve it, I must utilize this to the best of my ability. I owe it to myself, to the captain, and to all the people whose lives I may improve."

"So you go forward because you can't go backwards."

"I have never considered it that way, but yes."

"I'm sorry I took my anger out on you."

"Your apology is accepted. I am aware of how difficult this can be. There is no simple solution. You must simply face each day with the knowledge that you can still do good things, despite what you have done in the past."

"How can people take orders from me? How can they respect me when I don't even respect myself?"

"This crew has a remarkable capacity to forgive. You will find that in time, they respect you. Through their respect, you may find you grow to respect yourself."

"I can never go back. For the rest of my life I have to live with this."

"Indeed. However, you need not bear the guilt alone."

Marla sighed. "You're right. I have to do my best. If not for me, for everyone else."

"The day will come when you will do your best for your own sake."

She mulled their conversation over in her head. "Thank you, Seven. You've given me a lot to think about."

"If you wish to talk again, you may contact me. I can, as Lieutenant Paris is fond of saying, 'lend an ear.'"

"Thank you. I might take you up on that." She stood in front of the doors, ready to leave.

Seven picked up her padd. "Ensign."

Marla stopped. "Yes?"

"You must be aware that I often disagree with Lieutenant Torres."

"I think everyone on _Voyager_ knows that."

"I do not believe she has made a mistake in giving you more responsibilities."

Smiling, Marla walked through the door towards her quarters. _If everyone thinks there's hope for me,_ she thought, _maybe, just maybe, there really is_.


End file.
